


Forgive You

by Naugrimmellon



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Vesper Lynd is Alive, tons of sexual tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naugrimmellon/pseuds/Naugrimmellon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after faking her death, Vesper has an unexpected reunion with Mr. Bond. (A two part indulgent and rambling piece, written because Casino Royale and any later mention of Vesper Lynd breaks my heart) Rated M for sensuality and eventual smut</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive You

Vesper hadn't meant to ever see him again, but now it was too late. He had seen her, and followed her, and now here he stood in front of her, this man whom she had betrayed and lied to. She had tried to lose him in the crowd, but of course she couldn't. She had considered not answering the door when he knocked, but she couldn't deny that she herself desperately wanted to make amends. That, and the softness and uncertainty of the knock made her heart ache for him. She let her eyes roam over him, standing outside the threshold of her flat and looking debonair as ever. He was so close, close enough to reach out and touch; but she didn't dare. She looked everywhere but at his face. She stepped back from the door and motioned for him to come inside. When he stepped past her into the flat she felt her heart beat faster.

She shut the door softly, feeling an impending dread building in her stomach. What if he were angry? He certainly had every right to be. She took a steadying breath and turned to face him. Their eyes met, and she was completely unprepared for the rush of emotion that flowed through her. She realized after a moment that it was relief. She had never expected to see him again, and now he stood right in front of her looking at her with those eyes, and it wasn't until that moment that she realized she had never wanted anything more.

He stood a few feet away from her now, and they simply stared at each other, Vesper nervously wringing her hands as she agonized over what to say to him. Rain began to fall outside, and the soft echo of it hitting the windows was the only sound in the apartment. The air was charged with electricity that had nothing to do with the storm outside, and Vesper suddenly felt that it was difficult to breathe.

"Why?" was all he asked, and she knew by the weight of the word that it carried so many questions, things he'd never say. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you stay away? Why did you lie? Why did you hurt me?

"I couldn't face you, James… How could you ever forgive me after all I've done?" she said, biting back tears, "I just couldn't bear to face you."

She looked away from him then, down at the blue and white patterned floor, as she struggled to regain her composure. She could feel his eyes on her, though she still couldn't bear to meet his gaze.

"I wanted you to believe that I was dead because I couldn't stand it," she said, still not daring to look up.

"I would have forgiven you," he said, taking a few steps toward her. She was frozen in place, her whole body shaking. She couldn't decide if she wanted to back away or throw herself into his arms.

"No," she said quietly, "Not after everything."

"I'd never loved anyone the way I loved you," he said, a twinge of anger in his voice, "And you can be damn certain that I wouldn't have given up on you."

He was even closer now, and hot fear began to creep up Vesper's spine. Her own mind was her worst enemy now, suggesting things she hated to think about. This was a man who kills for a living, who kills without remorse. Was she absolutely certain that he wouldn't make sure this time that she was absolutely and definitely dead?

"Are you going to kill me, James?" she asked weakly, already knowing the answer before he spoke.

"No," he whispered, "No, of course not."

Vesper let out a shaky breath and chanced a glance up at his face. His expression was sincere and his blue eyes looked back at hers, still searching for answers, still making sure she was real.

"I'd like you to know that… I loved you too," Vesper breathed, her voice so quiet that it was almost drowned out by the soft rainfall, "I know you can't forgive me for what I've done, and what I've put you through, but I wanted you to know that what we had… it was real for me too."

There was silence after that, and Vesper looked away from his eyes again and instead focused on the dusky blue light of the sky outside the window, and the soft sound of the rain falling. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and he was so close that she almost couldn't stand not being able to touch him. He smelled of the ocean and something salty-sweet and his smell alone made her heart ache as flashes of memories flooded to the surface, memories of this man whom she had betrayed, whom she could never have again. After a long silence he spoke;

"…But I do forgive you," he said, and it was enough to make her legs weak. She looked at him now, really looked at him for the first time since he'd showed up at her door. He looked older, she realized, and sad; but he was still the same man she had loved. She reached out with an unsteady hand and touched his cheek softly. His eyes closed for a moment and then he reached up and grabbed her hand roughly, and Vesper thought for an excruciating moment that he was pushing her away.

He pulled her hand from his face and held it in front of his eyes. He turned her palm up and gently stroked the side of her hand.

"It can't be real," he said quietly, almost to himself, as he brought her palm gently to his lips and kissed it.

Vesper gasped softly at the unexpected tenderness of his touch. He planted three more soft kisses on her palm before he looked up at her again. She saw his eyes move to her lips as he leaned forward, still holding her hand. Every nerve in her body was screaming for more of his touch. Her eyes were drawn to his bottom lip and she longed to taste it again.

She leaned forward to meet him but they both hesitated, mere centimeters apart. She could feel his warm breath on her mouth but felt that she herself wasn't breathing at all.

"Vesper," he breathed, sending a shiver down her back at the sound of her name on his lips.

"James," she said in return, and that was all it took. Their lips came together softly, so faintly she could barely feel it, and yet the very ghost of the touch sent tingling goosebumps across her arms. They lingered that way, lips gently pressed together in the lightest of kisses, and Vesper savored the soft warmth radiating from his lips on hers. She moved her free hand to grip his left bicep, desperate to keep him close, to hold on to this warmth for as long as she could. It was over too soon; he broke the kiss, but his lips lingered mere centimeters from hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. His hand released hers and moved to her waist, as he gently ran his fingers along the curve of her hips. He moved to kiss her neck and Vesper nearly gasped in the sudden cold once his warm breath was no longer on her face. She almost protested had he not chosen that moment to place a slow, sensual kiss on her neck.

"I forgive you," he said again, before planting another kiss on her skin. His words were like music to her ears, but she didn't dare allow herself to believe them. Not because she thought he was being dishonest, but because she didn't believe that he could forgive her. She'd spent years telling herself that. She wanted nothing more than to touch him, to run her hands through his hair, to kiss every bit of his face, to hold him tightly against her; but she couldn't allow herself that.

"Forgive you… forgive you… forgive you…" he said softly, placing sweet, hot kisses on her neck between each repetition. It was as if he could sense her doubts; and maybe he could, perhaps he could feel her tension, her hesitation.

He finished kissing her neck and stepped back to stare at her again. His blue eyes were searching her face in a way that captivated her. She realized then that she had been wrong before; when he looked at her, she had thought he was searching for answers or for proof that she was real. But now that he was closer, now that she could feel the warmth of his body so close to hers, and now that she was looking into his blue eyes without any fear or dread, she could see what he was really looking for. He was looking for scars, for pain, for any sign of suffering past or present. He was lovingly looking over her, making sure she was all right. The concern in his eyes had been for her wellbeing all along. The realization temporarily knocked the breath from her lungs. She wanted to tell him that she was all right, that she hadn't been hurt since they'd last met, but she couldn't find the words to speak.

Instead she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, down to his neck, and then pulled him close. She allowed herself what she'd wanted since he'd first leaned close to her, and her lips closed around his bottom lip. The feeling was surreal; it was so familiar, yet new. She'd kissed him this way a thousand times, but it had been years since then. He responded instantly, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer against him.

"Vesper Lynd, back from the dead," he mumbled when their lips finally broke apart. She might have been mistaken, but she could have sworn there was the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Vesper Lynd, the liar," she corrected quietly, and closed her eyes as he gently stroked her hair.

"Hm. Yes," he agreed softly, nuzzling her and placing an open mouthed kiss on her neck, "Most definitely a liar." His lips were hot on her throat, and Vesper stifled a groan.

"But also very beautiful," he continued, kissing along her jaw line, "…Vesper Lynd, my love."

She kissed him then, really kissed him, with all the passion that had lay dormant for years, passion that had been reserved only for him. She kissed his lips first, then his cheek, his nose, his chin, his cheek again. All the while he was trying to kiss her lips, but she was able to dart away before he could. Her hands were in his hair, then around his neck, then on his cheek. She kissed him over and over, going over every spot on his face. He had long since given up on trying to catch her lips in his own, and he stood before her with his eyes closed, breathing softly as she kissed his face again and again.

She stroked his lip with her thumb and then moved her hand to his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his eyes still closed.

She realized as she looked at him that he was completely at her mercy; this man who killed without a second thought was standing before her, tame as a kitten. His defenses were down, and he was completely vulnerable. She wondered briefly how he could possibly put that much trust in her. Guilt washed over her for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. She stroked his face, and he made the smallest of sounds in appreciation, barely louder than a breath.

He really did love me, she thought then, looking at him in the dim light of her apartment. She wrapped her arms around him again and pulled him close, placing a chaste kiss on his neck. He sank into her embrace immediately, and Vesper thought she heard a soft sigh escape his lips as he put his arms around her.

They fit together so beautifully, Vesper thought. They always had, really. Like two pieces of a puzzle made of magnets. They stood that way for some time. Vesper could no longer hear the sound of rain outside, and wondered if it had finally stopped. Out the window she could only see a dim light still in the sky, the very last light of dusk. There was nowhere she would rather be than surrounded by his warmth, perfectly safe in his arms.

James had been quiet for so long that Vesper began to worry. She desperately wanted to know what was going on in that head of his, but was afraid of the answer he might give. She couldn't help but think of how he must have felt, how he must have grieved for her all those years ago. Guilt washed over her again like a cold wind, an icy cold that temporarily diffused the warmth of his arms around her. She squeezed him tighter.

She felt a familiar tightening in her chest, and before she could push the feeling away a quiet sob escaped her lips. She willed it to stop, fought for control of herself, but to no avail. She let out another choked sob that echoed in her ears, loud against the silence of the room, and she grasped his shirt with her shaking hands. The tears followed, streaming steadily down her face which she pressed against his shoulder. She couldn't stop now, no matter how much she tried. Her body was acting of its own accord, a necessary release of all the pent up guilt and sadness.

She cried into his shoulder, her whole body shaking, and he held her. He placed his right hand on the back of her head while his left hand moved to rub her back, making slow, comforting circles.

It seemed so backwards for him to comfort her when it was she who had hurt him. He kissed her head, and for a moment she thought she could feel him trembling slightly, though it was difficult to tell in the midst of her crying.

"You're good at this," she said softly when the tears had stopped.

"Good at what?" he asked. It was the first time he had spoken in a long while, and his voice sounded low and rough.

"Comforting people," she replied, her head still against his shoulder, "…comforting me."

"Oh?" he sounded far away.

"Do you remember when you held me that night? In the shower," she asked. His hand was in her hair now, gently caressing the dark tresses. The memory was from so long ago, but with him here it felt as if it happened yesterday.

"I wasn't sure you even remembered," he said, "you weren't exactly yourself."

"Neither were you, I suppose," Vesper smiled, "Who would have expected an assassin to be so sweet? It's a nice memory, even for such a bad night."

James gently moved his hand from her back to take hold of her hand. She closed her eyes as he kissed her fingers.

"I wasn't being sweet. I just knew how you felt," he said, holding her hand against his face.

"Well you were perfect," she murmured quietly, completely focused on the way his thumb stroked her palm, and then her fingers. He kissed her fingers again, softly, and then took them into his mouth just as he had done that night. Vesper gasped softly at the feeling of the slick heat of his mouth. He sucked gently as he slowly pulled them back out, and Vesper was suddenly aware of his tongue against the side of her finger. The feeling almost made her dizzy. The unwelcome rush of cold air that followed was jarring after the warmth of his mouth.

There was a moment of pause after that; Vesper could hear the rain outside again. Her thoughts kept going back to his mouth, and how perfectly warm it had been. She could hear his heartbeat faintly through the layers of his jacket. Suddenly it was all too much, too much between them. Her hands deftly slipped under the lapels and eased it down his shoulders. He took the hint immediately and tugged it off, tossing it carelessly onto the couch behind them.

Their lips met again, but their kisses were harder this time, more desperate. There was no hesitation anymore, no holding back. She reveled in his taste, the hot wetness of his mouth, and the occasional stroke of his tongue on her lips. Her hands were moving of their own accord now; she grasped his shirt, tugged it up out of his pants, and shoved her hands underneath. His back felt warm to her touch, and her hands roamed freely over his skin. She brought her hands around to his front and ran them slowly up his stomach to his chest.

They both awkwardly fumbled with his tie, trying to loosen the knot without having to stop kissing. It became clear that it was too crowded, so instead Vesper began unbuttoning his shirt. In her blind excitement her fingers fumbled with the ivory buttons; all of her attention was focused on what her mouth was doing. And, more importantly, what his mouth was doing.

James had finally managed to undo his tie, and his hands moved to Vesper's waist. His fingers brushed against her skin as they slid just barely underneath her silk top. She playfully tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth as his hands slid under her shirt and around to her back. He ran his hands over the clasp of her bra, and then gently unhooked it. He let his hands slowly drift back down her back before he brought them back out of her shirt and up to her shoulders where he tugged down the straps. He reached back underneath her shirt again, and pulled her bra out from under her shirt before tossing it down carelessly.

Vesper halted her task of unbuttoning his shirt to run her hands through his hair as she kissed him. His hands were back under her shirt, stroking up and down her stomach, down her sides, and her back; but he didn't touch her, not yet.

"My bedroom's this way," Vesper said breathlessly, pulling away for a moment. James allowed her to lead him, placing one hand in hers and the other on her waist.

Her bedroom was dark save for the dim moonlight streaming in from the far window. Vesper carefully led James around her armoire and pulled him down onto the unmade bed with her. The sheets were cool against Vesper's skin and she immediately pressed herself closer to James' warmth. Their breathing, which had been rough and ragged with desire, had slowed. They listened to the rain falling outside and simply held each other, tangled up together in the sheets, his shirt half unbuttoned and her bra on the floor.

"If I had known you were coming, I would have changed the sheets," Vesper said softly, smirking though she knew he couldn't see.

"Smells like you," he said, and Vesper could feel the vibration in his chest as he spoke; there was something very comforting about the feeling.

"Oh, that bad?" she joked. She was beginning to feel her wits coming back to her; it made her wonder if James was recovering his as well. The shock of seeing each other again had had quite an effect on both of them.

"On the contrary," he said, his hand stroking her hair, "It's the best smell in the world."


End file.
